SIMPLE MINDS GET BLOWN
I was sitting in Golden Gate Park thinking about the summer that wasn’t, part and parcel to the year that wasn’t. Nevertheless, I had overwhelming gratitude for a moment out in the warm sun, the grass brushing against the bottoms of my feet. Small moments of gratitude have been one way for me to curb the constant barrage of outrage and fear fed through the news—not that those items don’t exist, or we can afford stick our heads in the sand, but you need to recharge from time to time. Anyway, I hope you’re recharging. I hope you have a gratitude practice. It’s been transformative for me.
BADBADNOTGOOD & Ghostface Killah - Gunshowers (Feat. Elzhi)
Khruanghin & Leon Bridges - Texas Sun
Turnover - Butterfly Dream
Haux - Salt
Rancid - It’s Quite Alright
Neon Indian - Fallout
Frameworks - Sand & Stone
Orville Peck - Fancy
Touché Amoré - Limelight
Fleet Foxes - Quiet Air / Gioia
I really wanted to start this playlist off with Ghostface Killah but as much as I love Supreme Clientele, Fishscale, and that weirdly satisfying Wu-Massacre project, none of them were hitting the spot this week. As I was assembling this playlist I was drawn to stuff that was, for the most part, airy and light. Call it a mood thing. Then I remembered the spaghetti western/70’s inspired Sour Soul, where Ghostface teamed with my favorite Canadian jazz trio BADBADNOTGOOD for some absolutely filthy rhymes. “Gunshowers” was the first single from the project and I remember my jaw dropping as the guitars stretched like dissonant rubber, twisting down dark alleys and desperate times. Sour Soul is grimy and hard hitting but it never feels dour—there’s a smoothness to these atmospheres that’s held together by Ghostface’s oft-imitated, but irreplaceable, charisma. If you don’t believe me, check out “Tone’s Rap.” The saga continues…
Khruangbin and Leon Bridges gave us the song of the summer we never had. “Texas Sun” moves like sticky asphalt with dusty drums, sleepy bass work, and technicolor guitar sighs. This kind of wide open road trip rock hasn’t been en vogue for a while and it’s a shame because it manifests an outlet for our cooped up wanderlust in a way COVID-19 normally doesn’t allow. Pairing the second coming of Sam Cooke with indie rock’s chillest desert band was brilliant in hindsight. It’s too bad that the Texas Sun EP is only 4 songs as it makes me wish I could drive on forever.
I’m going to be oddly specific: Turnover reminds me of my trip to Switzerland last year, where my wife and I drove down into Interlaken on perhaps the most picturesque day I’ve ever experienced. Good Nature was the soundtrack on our 2-week trip around the country and it couldn’t have been a more perfect fit. “Butterfly Dream” is as sublime as its title with its jazz-adjacent flow, rippling melodies, and Austin Getz’s breathy delivery. It’s the kind of album that’s effortlessly cool, yet radiant and warm.
Ocean Beach is something of a personal spot for me. The irony being that it is, objectively, a shitty beach: the water is freezing, the sand is scuzzy and far from the idyllic white you might see somewhere tropical, and the current is too violent to wade in unless you’re a goddamn warrior. Yet, it’s extremely walkable from the Great Highway and one of the quieter parts of San Francisco. At night you can see a trail of bonfires stretching out in the distance. It is at the edge of the country and all at once limitless. For those reasons, I love to walk it and the nearby Sutro Bath ruins and Lands End trail when I need a break from the noise. There’s a calm that overtakes that beach when the wind picks up and the fog hangs low, “thinking weather” if that makes sense. When I heard “Salt” earlier this year it took me to what I feel at Ocean Beach in those quiet moments of reflection. The song’s spindly guitar ascends alongside Woodson Black’s measured voice. There’s insistent piano that gradually rises towards the song’s climax and the whole thing is as spacious as it is heavy. The repeated chorus of “You can't be lost / If you can't be found / You can be hurt / If you don't make a sound” is the kind of ruminating confessional that tends to creep inside when you’re all alone, laid bare to the thoughts and feelings you’d never speak out loud but for the presence of the bottomless ocean.
Rancid (2000) is one of the most fun hardcore albums you’ll ever listen to. Where else can you get existential whiplash in under 2 minutes?
I missed out on peak chillwave. Thinking about it in retrospect, it’s probably for the best because I would have been insufferable about the vibes. I loved this transition into “Fallout” though, with the hard gated synths that make you feel like you stood up too fast in a Q-Zar arena. I often feel like Neon Indian, Com Truise, and their peers were striving for the promise of what the 80s imagined, a post-human landscape that’s as frictionless as it is futuristic. However, what I always appreciated about Neon Indian is that his songs aren’t just pretty soundscapes. There’s a somber shadow cast over them, a longing and romanticism that’s as alluring as it is dangerous, and where he’s going, they don’t need roads.
I discovered Frameworks through yoga practice. I don’t normally recommend preset playlists but Apple’s Pure Yoga provides a wide variety of acoustic and electronic artists that help bring focus back to your breath. The “downtempo” moniker is vast and certainly captures what Frameworks are doing, but I think that label doesn’t provide enough nuance generally when you can cover both Imogen Heap and Sneaker Pimps in the same umbrella. Minor quibble aside, “Sand & Stone” is as unassuming as it is hypnotic. The shuffling backbeat folds in and out on itself, anchoring crystalline electronics that glide against ethereal samples. I’m not here to promise it will improve your downward facing dog but I’m a firm believer in setting up conditions for your success, and there’s something magical here about opening up yourself as the acoustic guitar fades out.
Bobby Gentry’s “Fancy” was as transgressive in 1969 as it is being covered by a masked, gay “cowboy” in 2020. The story of a prostitute turned millionaire is a perspective bending meditation, where morality doesn’t follow a straight line and survival is queen. Orville Peck’s version builds on a vulnerable spoken work purge, anchored by explosive drums, and a molten lava solo. Gentry once noted that:
“’Fancy’ is my strongest statement for women's lib, if you really listen to it. I agree wholeheartedly with that movement and all the serious issues that they stand for — equality, equal pay, day care centers, and abortion rights.”
The fact that these things are still up for debate in 2020 is a referendum on our society’s priorities. Gentry wasn’t wrong—at the heart of “Fancy” is the unapologetic declaration of autonomy over one’s choices and body, and that someone else’s opinion about those things isn’t sacrosanct. We are born into our circumstances and we’ve only got one shot to make the most of them. Of course, it helps to think about it in the abstract, with Peck’s Elvis-like croon laying out the parable anew.
“Limelight” is about being unbearably exhausted at being exhausted. Who isn’t in 2020? But there’s a darkness on the edge of town kind of feeling that Jeremy Bolm captures here—the urge to feel alive again, the hope to chase something that matters, the want and need to feel like a person that’s moved on from their past, to rage against the dying light of our best days and fashion something new. Sonically, Touché Amoré continue their exploration of mid-tempo tension ballads from Stage Four, but channeled through a softer lense, from the glorious and ragged counter point with Andy Hull, to the song’s almost dream country outro. If the rest of Lament is as good as this song, we’ll embrace the twilight in no time.
“Quiet Air / Gioia” is propelled by Robin Pecknold’s featherweight voice, set against a throbbing and insistent bass line that seems to pound for miles. There’s other bits in here—the soft harmonies, the clumsy keyboard tumbles—but it’s this relentless bass line and Pecknold’s subdued confidence that makes listeners feel like they can fly above any challenge in their path. Somehow, this song just soars, gone before you know it.
Originally published September 27, 2020 as part of Hella Vibes.